silly

silly how the moody winds blew your particles of fire my way and burned the blades silly how the boasty thunder rumbled with your voice of reason into the ears and flattened the eyes silly how the waters of the high crevices spilled from your too-low sky and drowned my last lingering fear silly how the piercing silence sang your tribal hymn and pumped...

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mad love

mad love is a burden, all wail and want; bounce and plunge. i look into this mother's face and i look into my wander to find the flutes of her yearning, the flock of all her exiled passions passed on to me the days in our moments of coitus. i've looked into that flowing face a hundred thousand times and discover again and again the seeds of my blossoms, the curls of...

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79 and anew, begins

it's mom's seventy-ninth today: i called her when i felt she would be able to talk, her attentions now abridged by the poison of illness she was going to the greenhouse with Dad, she told me, where they would pick flowers to fill the  boxes around the house there were many years he would drive her to New Hampshire to dine at their favorite  restaurant...

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